


Wayside

by orphan_account



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Angst, Jealousy, M/M, References to violence and abuse, Sexual Violence, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-07
Updated: 2012-08-07
Packaged: 2017-11-11 16:18:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/480432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deimos will never forget the morning Cain didn’t want to touch him anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wayside

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't sleep last night and so ended up obsessing over Cain's relationship with Deimos instead. This is the result. Unbeta'd, short, and a bit messy, but I'm going to just post it now rather than sit here staring at it. I need to have something up for SF!

Deimos will never forget the morning Cain didn’t want to touch him anymore.

The fighters had congregated in their usual place for the morning’s debriefing. Afterwards, Deimos had followed Cain out into the hallway and gently touched his wrist to signal he was ready for their standard morning fuck. But of course Cain hadn’t the decency to let him down gently. Instead he had shoved Deimos away from him as if swatting a fly, and muttered, “Get your hands off of me.”

Deimos, surmising Cain was in one of his moods, had begun to protest, wrapping his arms around Cain's waist and murmuring a number of filthy suggestions into Cain’s ear in order to make him change his mind. But then Cain had spun around and growled, “No. Not now, not ever again, you got it?” and that had been that.

Later, Deimos reflects on all the things he should have noticed then and there: Cain had avoided looking at him all the way through the debriefing; had not even paused to throw Deimos one of his nasty smirks.  Deimos was sure Cain had smelled of someone else's skin, too; an unfamiliar scent which had clashed with his own: soap, sweat, and cigarettes.

Things had never been easy between them, Deimos miserably recalls. Cain was relentlessly demeaning in bed, with a predilection for violent sex: spitting, biting, bruising, and the frequent drawing of blood were all virtually guaranteed during an encounter with Cain. In his fouler moods he had even enjoyed hitting Deimos just for the thrill of it, or putting his hands around Deimos' throat and calling him a little slut or whore as he fucked him. But Deimos doesn’t regret any of that. He wants it all over again. He had never expected perfection from Cain; had only ever wanted _him_ , and any way was good enough so long as they were together.

But all of that is over now, and Deimos has ceased to be anything to Cain other than a conveniently placed emissary, another set of ears through which he can glean information pertaining to the goings-on around the ship. Deimos does what is asked of him with little argument—it is the only way he can remain close to Cain; can be anything to him at all.   

Cain has taken to calling his new navigator, Abel, his girlfriend, and even though Deimos knows Cain means the title to be degrading rather than affectionate, it still fucking _stings_. Cain had never called Deimos anything other than whore, and occasionally, when he was feeling generous, _bitch_. He wonders whether Cain calls Abel any of those things, though he doubts it. Cain seems to take a gentler approach when it comes to the navigator —he appears to refrain from causing him real physical harm the way he did to Deimos, at the very least. He is, however, more possessive than ever when he talks about his navigator, as if desperate to hang onto this one, and the lust in his eyes is plain each time he looks at the willowy blond.

Deimos hates that he can see the appeal: Abel is much prettier than he ever was, and Deimos knows he doesn't compare. His body isn’t free of flaws the way Abel's is—he doesn't have those graceful limbs; his nose isn't perfectly straight—and Cain is shallow above all other things. It doesn't take much to turn his head, and Deimos knows that with this new navigator in the picture, Cain will never have need to touch him again. Not if he's getting something better somewhere else.

Deimos considers arranging the navigator's death—poisoning his food, perhaps, or hurling him five stories over a guard-railing—but quickly dismisses the thought. He doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life locked in a floating prison all because of that little cunt, and so he waits for Cain to tire of his new plaything.

That day is slow to arrive. Cain seems to grow more obsessed with his navigator the longer time goes on, and has already begun acting foolishly out of jealousy: He’s recently picked a fight with Praxis just for _talking_ to Abel, and is apparently convinced the Tiberius’ fighter has a 'thing' for the young navigator. Cain doesn’t like to share, and thus has ensured that every fighter in the fleet is aware Abel is his property and not to be spoken to or touched. He has marked his navigator now, scarred his lip, and Deimos is so bitter about this he can scarcely stand to think about it.

He has no scars to remember Cain by—none that anyone can see, at least. Cain had never been particularly possessive of him; had barely raised an eyebrow whenever another fighter had approached him for a good time. Deimos can’t understand what is so special about Abel that Praxis and Cain have devolved to throwing punches over him, but Deimos reasons the navigator must be an extraordinary fuck. He considers making a pass at Abel and finding out for himself, purely to spite Cain. But he won’t. He’s still afraid of Cain even as he desperately loves him, and doesn’t think enraging him by touching his toys is a very good idea.

And so he waits for Cain to get bored of Abel, even if he knows he’ll be waiting what feels like an eternity. He follows Abel around the ship—easily, as Abel doesn’t have a clue who Deimos is—and waits to catch him doing something that’ll cause Cain to turn on him: Like fucking Praxis behind Cain's back, which these days is looking more and more like a possibility—the one-eyed idiot and the navigator are always staring at each other like morons whenever they think the other's attention is diverted, and Deimos thinks it's fairly clear where things are headed. Deimos suspects Cain has a soft spot for Abel—he calls him ‘baby,’ even if it is with condescension—and Deimos thinks that maybe, just maybe, Abel has the potential to actually hurt him; as much as someone like Cain can _be_ hurt, anyway.

Deimos can hardly wait for it all to blow up in Cain's face. When it does he will be there, waiting for him, and everything will again be how it was.  


End file.
